I Was a Female Impersonator for the FBI

I know that sounds like a rather fantastic story, but I assure you it’s true, and I’m going to tell you about one of my adventures.

Of course I carried a badge, and a gun, as well as a pair of 36-C’s!  That’s right, a pair of tits inside my chest protector.  And that’s why I got this particular assignment – in fact, that’s why I got all the cross-dressing assignments.

You see, I’m a man.  Well, a trans-gendered person, really.  Somewhat ambiguous in my sexual appearance.  I can pass as either a male, or a female, depending on my outward appearance.  I’m also a black belt Kung-Fu Master, as a result of my father’s early attempt to make me more “manly”.  Actually, that’s turned out to be very helpful, as a lot of my assignments, I have to go in without being armed, and relying only on my Kung-Fu skills.

The problem (if it is a problem) was caused during puberty.  My testes never dropped, and my body produces more estrogen than testosterone than a normal male body.  Thus, I appear somewhat feminine, and have no beard to speak of.  Which is good, I suppose for when I have to appear to be a woman.

I keep my hair on the longish side, so I can change visible appearance virtually at will by simply removing my chest protector – which also hides my breasts most of the time, adding a bit of lipstick, and combing my hair over to the other side.

Anyway, On this one adventure, I was loaned out to the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency) to infiltrate a Mexican drug cartel, and find out where they were making Meth to smuggle into the United States.

The plan, such as it was, was that I would travel into Mexico as a male tourist, and once there, change into a woman, and find out what we wanted to know by any means possible.  I was given a contact in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, who had some connections to the Cartel that could be exploited.  They would see me as his “date”.  And we were to appear to be a couple in a normal male-female relationship during the operation.  At the conclusion, my “female self” would simply disappear back into my male persona, and melt into the summer tourism crowd, and disappear.

The plan, went fairly well for the first couple of days, then took a 90-degree turn into the bizarre.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I arrived at the border crossing by car, from California.  At the time, all you needed to cross into Mexico for an extended stay, was your driver’s license, a permit, and “tourist card”, which you could purchase at the crossing for ten dollars.  It was good for six months, and could be renewed inside the country for another ten bucks before it expired.

Anyway, I ponied up the first ten dollars, and was issued my “papers” for a six-month tourist stay.  The first hitch in the plan was the border crossing guard who wanted to inspect my luggage.

Well, I only had two suitcases, one with male clothes, and the other with female clothes, makeup, and assorted things I needed to turn my male self into a female self.  The problem was, I was currently portraying myself as male, so had to think fast.  While the guard fished around in my first suitcase, I dreaded what was about to happen when he got to the second.

As he opened the second case, the first thing he spotted was a frilly pair of red panties, and matching bra.  I watched as he dropped my frillies, raised his eyes to my face, studying it for a second or two while I waited.  I tried to appear nonchalant as if it were totally normal to be carrying a suitcase full of women’s clothes.

I was still debating whether to tell him they were my wife’s clothes and she would be joining me later, or to suggest I was a female impersonator or simply a pervert looking for a safe place to wear women’s clothes for the weekend.

As I watched him, he broke into a wide grin, and said, “Senior, maybe on Saturday night, you’ll give me the honor of having dinner with me.”  With that, he closed the case and clicked it shut.

Whew!  What a relief.  He had decided on the third scenario I had thought up.  I didn’t know, or care, what he thought, but I made a mental note, we had to think up a better way for use in the future.

I dropped my eyes, and as coyly as I could muster, I replied, “We’ll have to see about that.” 

I figured that if he was looking for a dinner date, he would want to see me “en fem”, and maybe he was a bit kinky himself.

So – next phase.  I drove the car across Baja, and down the coast to Mazatlan, the nearest large city up the coast from Puerto Vallarta.  I parked the car at one of the shabby motels along the coast, made arrangements to watch over it while I took a side trip to Puerto Vallarta, and said I’d be back in a few days.

Next, inside my room, I changed into my female self, and waited for evening.  A simple summer dress, halter top, summer hat, and low-heeled sling back pumps were the core of my outfit.  Those red frillies the border guard appreciated so much, and a simple white clutch bag.  I didn’t need a bra with this dress, and figured it might make it more appealing to show a bit of cleavage for first impressions.

As usual, I looked at myself in the mirror, turning this way and that, admiring myself, and making sure everything appeared the way it should.

Evening finally came, I snuck out of my room, female suitcase in hand, and caught a taxi to the airport.  Nothing to it.  – A single American female, traveling alone, and headed for the airport for a flight to Puerto Vallarta.  Obviously un tourista.

The flight took only 45 minutes and was pleasant enough.  The lights of Puerto Vallarta lit up the early evening, as they came on as night darkened the sky.

Upon arrival I checked into a small hotel in the older part of town.  As I opened my suitcase, I noticed that it had been opened already, and things moved around a bit.  There were signs that some of my frillies had been unfolded and looked at more extensively.

“My God”, I thought.  “What’s the big deal?  You seen one pair of panties, you’ve seen them all.  Why do men seem to have such a curiosity about panties???”  But clearly, someone had rummaged through the suitcase, while I was in the Mazatlan airport, or shortly after arrival in Puerto Vallarta.  I discounted the idea of anyone rummaging through suitcases while the plane was in-flight.

The evening air was warm – it was summer, and many of the town’s residents, as well as the tourists had came out to enjoy the nightlife.  The big thing about Puerto Vallarta is “The Malecon”, a concrete buttress against the sea, separating the original older part of the city and the ocean, before the arrival of the high priced, and high profile hotels before it became a tourist mecca.

A leisurely walk along the Malecon, in the warm summer air, was a high point of the city's nightlife.  It was arranged that I would meet my contact at an outdoor refreshment stand selling corn-on-the-cob, and refreshing fruit drinks by the glass.  Buyer beware – don’t drink the water!

I sort of hung around the refreshment stand, waiting for my contact.  While waiting, I watched the vendor sell his wares.  The Mexicans – or the tourists for all I know – have an interesting was of eating corn-on-the-cob.

In America, corn is often eaten by coating it with butter and salt, and eating it out of hand while sliding it back and forth, like a typewriter carriage.  In Mexico, a warm cob is dribbled with lemon or limejuice, sprinkled with powdered or ground chili, and eaten like a corndog on a stick.  Interesting cultural difference.

I sort of casually stood near the vendor’s stand, gazing out at the ocean.  Suddenly, a well-dressed young man walked straight up to me and said, “A penny for your thoughts.”

That was our coded password, to be able to recognize each other.

“Come with me”, he said, offering his arm as if to escort me.

I turned, smiled broadly as if greeting an old friend took his arm, and arm in arm we walked downs the Malecon as if we were old lovers.

As we walked, he spoke.  “My name is Chollo.  Glad to see you arrived safely.  I wasn’t sure about this plan, but if it works……”  His voice trailed off.

“Where are we going”, I asked?

“Not far from here”, he said. “ I’ve arranged a meeting with my boss.  With any luck you’ll get what you need tonight, and can get out of here.”

I gave his arm a little squeeze, not thinking how he might take it.

We walked, and were one block off the Malecon when the street turned into a warehouse district.  Since it was night, the street was mostly deserted and dark.  Chollo turned into a slight copula, and unlocked a door.  My adrenaline started pumping, and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck started to stand up.  It was a dramatic moment – entering the unknown. A lot of adventures start like this…..

I was aware that I had to be on guard, because behind that door, almost anything could happen.  I was dealing with members of a drug cartel.

Chollo flipped a light switch.  As my eyes adjusted to the light, I noted two men standing in the shadows, on either side of the room, and a third, directly in front of us.

The third man spoke first.  “Who is this, Chollo?”

“It’s my American friend”, Chollo replied.  Then added, “She’s okay.”

“No, she’s not okay, Chollo.  She’s not okay until I say she’s okay!”

It was obvious he was “the boss”, and “the boss was pissed!”

I could feel the atmosphere deteriorating…..

The boss spoke again as Chollo remained silent as if he had been rebuked or shamed publicly.

“Where’s the money, Chollo?”

Surprised, Chollo asked “What money?”

Boss spoke again, somewhat with the inadequate answer.  “The money you picked up at the track this morning!”

“I wasn’t at the track this morning”, Chollo protested.

“Paco said you came to the track this morning, and picked up the bag with ten thousand in it.”

“He’s lying”, Chollo protested.  “I wasn’t at the track this morning!”

The boss considered that for a moment, then said, “Chollo, I don’t know whether you stole ten grand or betrayed me with this bitch, but you’re a liability.”

Boss nodded to the side, to a man standing in the darkness.  “Kill him” Boss said!

A shot rang out from the darkness.  The last thing I remember was Chollo slumping toward the floor and suddenly my world went black.  Someone had hit me over the head from behind  ….. Someone I hadn’t heard behind me.

There was no time for me to bring my Kung-Fu skills to defend myself, there was just blackness as I crumpled to the floor myself.

As I started to regain my senses, I became aware that I was tied and gagged, and lying on a bed, totally nude.  I was face down, but as I turned my head, I could see it was morning, as the sun streamed through a slightly open skylight.

I tested my bonds to determine whether they were loose enough to allow me to escape.  They weren’t.  Whoever tied me up knew what he was doing.  I was face down on the bed, in a tight hogtie.  There was a large rubber ball stuffed in my mouth, held in place by a strap going around my head, effectively preventing me from speaking or screaming for help.

There were loops around my ankles and knees, strapping my legs together.  Both hands were tied behind my back; my elbows were pulled together and tied.  And worst of all, my knees were bent at a right angle and a loop of rope was tied between the ankles and circled around my throat.  If I moved my legs, the rope would choke me.  It’s called the Devil’s Tie because of the impossibility of escape, and the tortuous thought of a slow death if someone else doesn’t rescue you.

And of course, in my case, it was worse because I was nude, and no doubt they had seen my physical condition.  I wandered what they made of it?

As my head cleared, I could hear someone on the other side of a closed door, talking, so I was not alone.  They were probably waiting for me to wake up, to interrogate me, and find out if I was in cahoots with Chollo, or knew where the track money was.  I figured they wouldn’t kill me until they recovered the money, or at least found out what happened to it.  Boss wanted that money back, that much was clear, and I didn’t have it.

I assumed that whether Chollo was involved in a theft, by now, he was probably dead as a doornail!

The door suddenly opened and instinctively, I turned my head.  Through the open door, I heard Boss speaking…..  “I’ve got to fly up to Tepic to see the cooker.”

That was it!  That was the information I was sent down here to get for the DEA – the location of the “cooker” the guy who made the Meth for the drug trade.  But how was I going to escape and get that information back to the DEA?  As far as I knew, there was no backup plan, and with Chollo’s murder, which wasn’t expected, there seemed to be little hope of rescue.

I decided, since I didn’t know the names of my captors, that the man who issued orders was the Boss, so I decided to call him “Boss” until I had something else to call him.

“Boss, she’s awake”, I heard someone say.   I didn’t know who – we hadn’t been introduced and there wasn’t time at our first meeting.

At least, they were referring to me as “she” ….. that might work to my favor.

The Boss and two other men filed into the room and looked at me, hogtied and unable to move more than my head.  And oh, what a pain I had in my head.  Someone had hit me hard with something just as hard.  It’s a wonder they didn’t split my head open right then and there.

The man who opened the door and looked in, spoke.  “I was taking her clothes off to better tie her up, and this is what I found…..”

With that, he grabbed me by the shoulder and rolled me over on my right side.  My breasts flopped forward; they were hard to ignore.

There was a note of derision in the voice of the man I guessed was the boss.
His other had grabbed my tied ankles and rotated the lower half of my body, and my manhood became apparent.

“My God, She’s a faggot”, one of the men who came in with Boss spoke first.

“No, Paco”, the man who opened the door said.  “She’s different – she’s got no nuts.  No nuts at all – just a little bit of a pecker!”

It was true – in my medical condition the testes never dropped, and consequently that’s why I developed some female characteristics.  Like my boobs.  They were hard to ignore, and anyone seeing them would be confused, not knowing my medical history.

Boss spoke…..  “Well, maybe she was born that way, or maybe someone cut them off for their own reasons.”

The man who opened the door, who was so surprised, spoke again…..  “And she’s got no pussy either.  I looked!”

“I’m sure you did, Mano”, Boss said.

“Mano”.  His name is Mano.  At least I won’t have to keep calling him “The man who opened the door and looked in” …..  I thought I detected a note of derision in the voice of the man I decided was the boss.

“Can I keep her Boss”, Mano whined to Boss.

“We’ll see”, Boss said.  “But first I want some answers from her.”

“I’m sure I can get her to tell you everything you want to know”, Mano said.  “She’s just right for me – I like fucking American girls in the ass!”

“I know you do, Mano.  We’ll see”, Boss said.  “Meanwhile, take her out to the ranch tonight after dark, and chain her up in the dungeon.”

“Thank you, Boss.  I’ll take good care of her!”

“You’d better Mano.”  Boss said.  “There are too many questions here, and I want some answers.  I’m making you personally responsible for her safety until I decide what to do with her.”

“I have some suggestions”, Paco said with obvious derision.  It was obvious he didn’t like trans-gendered people, or gays in particular.

“And what would you suggest, Paco”, Boss said?

“Well, I’d have the doctor cut the rest of her dick off, and sell her into one of the brothels that cater to the queers”, Paco suggested.

“Too risky”, Boss replied.  “You aren’t thinking, Paco.  Right now, she’s a valuable resource, and she might be worth something to someone.  If nothing else, we could turn her into a crack whore or cocksucker on the streets.  No maintenance, and no liabilities.

“No!”  Mano protested.  “I want her.  Just the way she is.”  Mano slapped me on the rump.  “I want that juicy little ass!  You know I like to fuck American girls in the ass.  I like to hear them scream when I shove into their tight little butt, and I like to hear them beg me to stop, that I’m hurting them.  I like turning them into sex slaves, and playing with their titties while they’re tied up.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Mano!  Yes, we know you like to be a little rough with them.  We’ll see”, the Boss repeated.  “Meanwhile get her out to the ranch, chain her up, untie her, and feed her.  You can use her later.”

I didn’t like the sense of the way he used the term “use her”!  I envisioned a rape, which I had never experienced, or even thought much about.  But at least they were still thinking of me as a woman, which left little room to come to any other conclusion about the real reason, I was there, and had been with Chollo.

With his last comment, Boss, with his two companions, left the room, closing the door behind them.

Gently, Mano rotated me back onto my stomach.  He caressed my buttocks lovingly and whispered into my ear, “I’ll take good care of you, chickita.  As long as you don’t fight me, I won’t hurt you.  We can have a lot of fun …..  I take good care of my women!”

He dipped his fingers into the crack between my cheeks, and fingered me.

“Mmmmfff!” I protested into my gag.  “Mmmmfff”, as I tried to turn my head in protest.
But I knew that I was probably going to be his plaything.  At least until I got untied and had an opportunity to beat the crap out of him.

“Are you going to be a nice little girl”, Mano asked?

I nodded my head as best I could.

“Okay”, said Mano.  “You’re lucky I spoke up.  Paco would have just killed you and be done with you.  He’d have put you in the boat, and taken your body out to sea and dumped you.  -  Maybe alive, maybe dead!”

The thought of being that close to death and helpless was frightening.

“I’m going to remove your gag now, and as long as you don’t scream, I’ll give you some water and something to eat.  Are you okay with that?”

Again, I nodded my head.

And again, Mano gently turned me over on my back.  My arms hurt from having been restricted for so many hours.  I didn’t know how long I had been unconscious, but it must have been a while, since it was daylight outside.

Mano removed the rope that had been around my throat, and surveyed the scene in appreciation.  He ignored my obvious male equipment, and seemed to pay particular attention to the size and shape of my bare breasts. 

“You’ve got a great pair there!  I’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun with them!”  H was obviously thinking about what he was going to do to me.

He reached up to the side of my head and unbuckled the strap that was holding the rubber ball in my mouth and between my lips.  As he gently pulled the ball out of my mouth, I slowly moved my jaw to close my mouth and alleviate the pain.

“Now – first things first”, Mano said.  “Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes, please”, I managed.

Mano stood at the side of the bed, picked me up and carried me to a small bathroom next to the bedroom where I had been tied up.  I was still tied up, so now was not the time to attempt to break free.  He put me down in front of the toilet, and pushed me backward into a seated position on the toilet seat.  Then he just stood there.

“Please”, I said.  “Can I have a little privacy?  I can’t go with you watching me.”

“Okay”, Mano said.  “But don’t try anything funny.  I’ll be right outside, and you can’t outrun a bullet in the back if you try to escape.  Over time, I’ll train you to pee on command, when I want you to, and hold it in when I tell you to.”

A shudder made my skin crawl at the thought of being so controlled.  We have learned to regulate our toilet needs to conform to opportunity and need, not “on command”.  The thought was unsettling.

Waiting for a moment to emphasize his control over me, he finally stepped outside and pulled the door closed.  I heard the door latch click closed from the outside.

I let go of my bladder muscles, and promptly peed all over myself.  Well, all down my legs anyway – I was still tied up.  I twisted and turned, but no matter which way I leaned, I couldn’t hit the bowl from my seated position, and with my legs tied together at the knees and ankles.  So I just let go, and spayed my urine all over the tiny room.

As the pressure in my bladder lessened, I wondered how long I was going to have to experience using the toilet like this.

When I finished there was a real sense of relief in my abdomen.

“I finished”, I called out.

I heard the door lock click, and the door opened. 

“I’m sorry”, I apologized. . “ I couldn’t aim, and got wet all over myself.”

“No problem”, Mano said.  “I’m used to having girls pee all over themselves.  I’ll clean you up.”

Taking me with a grip under the shoulders, he commanded, “Stand up!”

With a little effort, and help from Man, I got off the toilet into a standing position.

“Let’s wash you off”, Man said.

This may be my chance, I thought.  If Mano unties me, I might be able to kick him in the nuts, and escape.

But that wasn’t to be.  Mano picked me up bodily, carried me over to the bathtub, and stood me in the middle of the tub.

While I stood there somewhat embarrassed, he used a hose to spray me with cold water from the waist down.

Damn, it was cold – he hadn’t adjusted the temperature of the water, he had just sprayed me with cold water.

When he had finished rinsing my legs, he grabbed my arm, forcing me to turn around with my back to him, and proceeded to spray my backside, paying particular attention to getting the spray directed between my ass cheeks.

“I want you to keep yourself clean back here”, he said as the water trickled across my rectum.  I’m ashamed to admit it, but it was kind of sensual.

Satisfied that he had cleaned my backside, he shut off the spray hose, and toweled me off from the waist down.  As I stood there, fully exposed in front of him, he also toweled off my breasts.  Even through they had not been washed, he took pleasure of touching and squeezing them gently.

“You’ve got great titties”, he said.  “I’m really going to enjoy playing with them.”

I decided to play in character, in a way that I imagined any girl in a similar situation would have.

“Please don’t hurt me”, I pleaded.  “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt me.”

I hoped to trigger some sympathy from him, and perhaps reduce some of the pain and suffering I was afraid was coming.

“I told you slut.  -  As long as you cooperate and do whatever I tell you to, I won’t hurt you.  Not too bad, anyway.”

As an afterthought, he asked, “What’s your name, slut?”

Thinking fast, the first thing that came to mind was the name “Julia”.

“Julia”, I replied.

We had not planned for a name when planning the operation.  It was supposed to be a quick in and out thing, with no need for names, papers, or identities.

“Hmmm”, Mano mused.  “Julia!  Okay, from now on, you’ll be known as Mano’s slut, Julia.  Understand?”

“Yes” I responded.

“Say it!” Mano commanded.  I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m Mano’s slut Julia”, I repeated dutifully.

“Good”, Mano said.  “And now say, I’m going to be Mano’s sex slave!”

“I’m going to be Mano’s sex slave”, I repeated.

“Don’t look at me!” he commanded.  “Look at the floor when I’m talking to you!”

I dropped my eyes, and repeated it again.  “I’m going to be Mano’s sex slave!”

“Good!” Mano said.  “Remember that!”

Still looking at the floor, Mano suddenly slapped my left breast very hard.  As his hand struck my flesh, my eyes closed involuntarily in response to the pain.

“Don’t cry”, Mano commanded,  “If you cry, I’ll have to gag you again.”

I stifled the urge welling up behind my eyes, which were closed tightly in an attempt to keep from crying.

“That’s for peeing on yourself, slut!  Do it again, and it’ll get worse!”

Mano picked me up again, virtually threw me over his shoulder, and carried me back to the bedroom and lay me on the bed.  He stretched me out, face up, and used the rope that had been around my throat earlier to secure my ankles to the bottom of the bed.  I was lying on my back, on my still bound arms.

“Please Mano”, I begged, “Please untie me – give me some relief from the pain in my arms.”

I was trying to trick him into freeing my arms, knowing that I could do considerable damage if only my arms were free.  Instead he kind of rotated me back and forth, and pushed a pillow behind my back on both sides of my bound arms, lifting the weight of my torso off my arms and shoulders.

Well, at least it wasn’t as painful as lying on my bound arms.

But this wasn’t the opportunity I was looking for yet.

“Thank you Mano”, I offered.

“Don’t call me Mano”, he commanded.  “Call me Master, ‘cause that’s what I’m going to be from now on.  I’m your Master, and I demand you respect me!”

Still in character as the scared victim, “Yes, Master”, I heard myself say.  Better to play along and avoid any real mistreatment, and possible punishment.

Damn, I thought.  Why didn’t we think of a backup rescue plan?  Right now, it looked like times were going to be tough for me.  …..  And there’s more to this story.  I had stumbled into something worse than a drug cartel – these were white slavers.  …..  Kidnapping women and selling them into slavery!

 

06.10.10